


Deoxyribonucleic Acid

by scrawly_times



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biokinetic Burr au, Body Horror, Dubious Science, Human Disaster Aaron Burr, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, can i just say it amuses me greatly that tag is an actual thing that exists and is regularly used
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-01-25 03:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12522296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrawly_times/pseuds/scrawly_times
Summary: Aaron gasped in a horrid breath, agony shooting through his head and neck and chest. He struggled for a minute to breathe, blood choking him, something lodged in his throat. He could feel something on his forehead, he felt something in his jaw, in his neck, several in his chest. Aaron felt tears slipping down his face as he choked and sobbed as flesh began to knit itself back together. He had to get them out- he couldn’t- he had to hurry before the wounds closed-Or, an AU where Aaron has science superpowers and science is fun, but not for him.





	1. Get a Medic!

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO AND WELCOME TO MY CONTINUING AU HELL
> 
> This AU really delves into science and biology without actually... ever... bringing up much of science and biology. It's the 1700s. Nobody knows what the fuck they're doing. I know this stuff, but putting it into the context of the time period means it's basically just really weird "magic" to anyone who knows about it.
> 
> And "it" is biokinesis. Controlling DNA with your mind. Aaron Burr can do that, in this AU. Welcome to hell.
> 
> Note that the graphic depictions of violence is there for a reason. DNA is an incredibly vital and fiddly part of biology and if you fuck with it The Thing levels of body horror can pop up, not to mention there's a war in the 1700s going on.

When Aaron was a child his parents kept him inside.

They kept him hidden, apart. This wasn’t to say they were cruel of course. They only ever did what they thought best for him. And if nobody saw him nobody would ever see his skin rippling and changing.

Aaron didn’t understand it. He still didn’t. 

It started when his mother was still pregnant. She had a frighteningly perfect pregnancy. She had morning sickness for only a few days. Her cravings were wild and varied, but not particularly strong. She had a voracious appetite but little to no actual complications or pains or general aches that were to be expected from pregnancy.

His birth itself had happened so fast the midwife hadn’t even had time to arrive. His mother had been in almost no pain. When the midwife did arrive, she declared it looked as if Mrs. Burr had never given birth at all. In an unnatural way. So unnatural they had to beg the hysterical midwife to not speak of it to anyone. She left in tears and crossing herself repeatedly.

Aaron was a happy baby. He was quiet and well behaved. His parents would have no complaint if it weren’t for what his touch could do.

It was hard to pin down exactly what it was he did. Things changed when he touched them. Or  _ he _ changed when he touched them. Not all things, but living things.

One time as a child when he first saw lettuce he touched it and bits of his skin started to turn green. His parents’ panic quickly had him reversing whatever it was he’d done. It was hard. It wasn’t something even an adult of the time could explain or understand, much less a child who was working almost entirely by instinct and gut feelings.

It was also quite a gross process. It involved lots of “leftovers” and ended in Aaron receiving far too many baths for his liking. His parents didn’t quite like it when he figured out how to make himself throw up instead of it pushing its way out of his skin. But then, Aaron wasn’t even sure what the “leftovers”  _ were _ or  _ why _ they were something he couldn’t avoid. He just  _ knew _ that whatever it was he was doing ended up with bits left over.

Aaron was just a child but his parents did what they could to give him a childhood regardless of his isolation.

Aaron was just a child but his parents died and he was shuffled off to some uncle who didn’t know what to do with him.

Aaron was just a child but his uncle was convinced his powers were the work of witchcraft and the devil.

He learned to cover himself up in clothes and keep his face flat and never  _ ever  _ reach into that strange headspace where bits and pieces of strings flowed.

Eventually he got away. Eventually he went to college. Eventually he was so used to being kept away from people and hiding everything he didn’t  _ know _ how to do anything else. Aaron lived in constant terror of people finding out.

No matter what he did to try and forget about it the strings never stopped flying through the back of his head. They just never stopped. He could brush them aside, ignore them, not focus on them so that they were just a quiet buzz. But they were always still there.

When the war started he enlisted, despite his better judgement. The buzz had become… too much.

That was when Aaron Burr discovered that he couldn’t die.

He had to consciously  _ stop _ himself from healing at some stupendous rate, yell at the strings to  _ stop _ and  _ slow down. _ It hurt and took up a lot of concentration.

Eventually he learned it was best to just keep charging on and let his wounds hide themselves. The doctors needed to focus on people who really needed it. He couldn’t die and there was a war to fight. He taught himself to sew to patch up the bullet holes.

General Montgomery was an old soul. Aaron didn’t intend to become his assistant, but apparently his silent bearing appealed to the general. He stayed at Montgomery’s side and did his best to hide what bits of his powers were still obvious.

Montgomery knew something wasn’t right about Aaron but he never said anything. Small, silent glances when Aaron did something off. He would smile at Aaron supportively and then turn away.

For the first time in his life Aaron wished he’d had a chance to tell someone about his power.

* * *

 

_ pain pain pain pain PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN- _

Aaron gasped in a horrid breath, agony shooting through his head and neck and chest. He struggled for a minute to breathe, blood choking him, something lodged in his throat. The sound of battle (guns screams yelling blasts canons guns guns screams oh god the  _ screams _ ) echoed around him outside the ringing in his ears.

He could feel something on his forehead, he felt something in his jaw, in his neck, several in his chest. Aaron felt tears slipping down his face as he choked and sobbed as strings flew behind his eyes and flesh began to knit itself back together. He had to get them out- he couldn’t- he had to  _ hurry _ before the wounds closed-

It hurt so so bad to even breathe much less move but Aaron reached up with weak fingers and pulled the bullet out of his skull where healing flesh had popped it out. A pale discharge bled from the wound, leftovers, he nudged strings around  _ no that wasn’t where that was supposed to go, no, wait, then it goes into his  _ **_brain,_ ** _ leaking out was better then _ and he gasped as he scratched at his neck.

He was drowning in his own blood and he was digging his fingers into his own flesh to pull out shards of cannon shells and Aaron was  _ crying _ it hurt so  _ bad, pain pain pain pain PAIN PAIN PAIN- _

Aaron was hardly conscious when hands grabbed his own, pulling them away from his chest. He struggled weakly and cried out when arms pulled him close.

He began to cough up blood, bile, and more leftovers when the arms pulled him to a sitting position. When he could almost breathe again he cracked open his eyes and horror dawned on him when the Montgomery was holding him.

The general was quiet, or maybe he was talking, maybe Aaron’s ears weren’t working, maybe the battlefield was just so loud neither of them could hear each other if they DID talk. But Aaron was too busy caught up in his terror to realize this.

Montgomery’s shocked and blank face slowly shifted into consideration, then an old weariness and acceptance. He smiled briefly and his mouth opened-

They both fell over as a bullet lodged itself in Montgomery’s neck.

Aaron thought he screamed. He might have. He might have still been choking on his own blood. He just knew one moment the general was holding him up and the next they were falling.

The general was still holding him when the strings slowed down and his flesh had knit itself back together and he’d stopped throwing up leftovers. Aaron turned over weakly and tried to find a pulse but- he was gone.

Aaron screamed and shoved the corpse away, stumbling to his feet, trying to rid himself of the blood and filth and the _ horror _ of this entire shitstorm of a battle.

The general was dead. Aaron had watched him die. He was  _ holding Aaron _ when he died. Aaron was alive and the general was dead and it  _ wasn’t fair. _ Why did Aaron have to live? Why did Aaron have to be cursed with this indescribable power he couldn’t even fucking _ use?  _ Why did he live while  _ others- _

* * *

 

When everyone regrouped after the battle was over, Aaron made his way to the med tents. When the doctors tried to push him out he rolled up his sleeves and offered an extra pair of hands that wasn't squeamish. They took him.

His power made no sense. Aaron couldn’t make heads or tails of it. The strings seemed to be the basis of everything, and yet there were the, the- small things, tiny, not as small as the strings but the soldiers that followed the orders the strings gave.

His power made no sense but Aaron still made use of it. He couldn’t do much. He didn’t even  _ know _ what the fuck he was doing. He just knew certain things could  _ help  _ and he could slow bleeding or clot it up or even  _ put blood vessels back together again _ and he would do whatever it took to make sure as few people as possible died in this cursed war.

Aaron became a well known field medic.

He wasn’t special for having performed miracles in battle or any such nonsense. Nobody ever realized what he did and he planned on keeping it that way.

But Aaron was a quiet presence. Sometimes when men were injured and on the verge of death that not even he could pull them back from, they just wanted someone there. Someone to hold their hand and be a solid presence and hand them clean water while they waited for their end.

And if a surprising number of men he pulled off the battlefield survived despite their wounds… well. Nobody would ever notice. He was quick to dress wounds and always went immediately for the soldiers who were at that uncertain point where death was likely but not assured. Small “miracles” were to be expected.

* * *

 

“Who are you?”

“Aaron Burr, sir.” Aaron ducked his head respectfully over the bags of supplies he was carrying. 

“Field medic?” George Washington looked him over patiently, eyes catching on the symbol on Aaron’s arm. 

“Yes sir.” Aaron nodded to one of the other medics as they took some of the bags so he wasn't about to fall over. 

“I've heard of you,” The General said.

Aaron dismissed the slight panic that bubbled up. “Have you, sir? I can't imagine there's been much to hear.”

“That's correct, but James Craik had a lot to say about your dedication.” Washington raised an eyebrow. “Few medics work as long hours as you, he’s said.”

“I’m just doing my best to keep as many men alive in this war as possible, sir.” Aaron said wearily. Washington looked him in the eye for a moment and then nodded.

“As we all are.”

“General Washington, sir!” A familiar voice called through the camp. Alexander Hamilton ran up, out of breath and clutching papers. “I need to talk to you about-” He noticed who the General was talking to and drew back briefly in surprise. “Aaron Burr? Sir! It’s been a long time!” Alex grinned at him and Aaron tried to smile back. It came out weak and shaky.

“You’ve met?” Washington said, looking between them.

“We keep meeting.” Aaron said. He turned to Alexander. “I heard about your promotion to camp de aide,” His smile became a little more genuine. “Congratulations.”

“And I’ve heard nothing of you!” Alex exclaimed. “You’ll have to join me sometime to catch up!”

“Is your whole crew still together?” Aaron chuckled.

“Absolutely. Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette are all here and in fine fighting spirit!” Alexander beamed and then seemed to remember he had a job to do. “Ah, well, I’ll find you later and invite you to our fire. General?”

“It has been a pleasure meeting you, Mister Burr.” Washington nodded his head and Aaron nodded back as respectfully as he could with his arms still burdened.

“An honor to meet you, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO A BRIEF SLIPSHOD HISTORY ON THE DISCOVERY OF DNA:  
> -while cells themselves were discovered in 1655 they were either not concretely studied or more importantly, nobody realized "oh shit, living things are made of cells"  
> -this realization that living things were made of cells wasn't made until 1830  
> -Mendel and his famous pea plants and experiments with genetics happened in 1860  
> -around this time they started wondering "oh hey, there has to be something behind this genetic stuff" but it wasn't until 1869 that they really proposed the IDEA OF THE EXISTENCE of DNA  
> -they eventually knew DNA EXISTED, but they had no idea what it was made of or what it looked like for fucking YEARS they only actually figured that out in 1950
> 
> My point is that all of this takes place long after the American Revolution and the 1700s. Aaron Burr has no fucking clue what the fuck he's doing and there's no concrete way he ever COULD in this time period without a LOT of leaps in logic. The scientific discovery of DNA was a collaborative effort from dozens of scientists over the generations, contributing various bits and pieces. Poor Burr has almost no logical chance of figuring it out and so he won't.


	2. Yo, Let's Steal Their- OW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron doesn't want friends. Too bad, those friends want u, you disaster of a human being

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of liberties were taken with medical knowledge in the 1700s but also,, there really wasn't much you could do for wounds back then. For fucks sake they didn't even know you should wash your hands until the 1800s! Aaron says fuck that and has probably accelerated the course of medical history a little bit by coming to that realization now.
> 
> Warning for this chapter for a lot of mentions of blood

“Aaron Burr!” There were varying levels of sincerity in the greetings that hit him as Alexander dragged him forwards.

“It’s been a while.” He nodded respectfully to the gathered group of friends huddled around a campfire. Alex pulled him down to sit on a log and he stumbled a bit. In the interest of getting his arm back he sat down, adjusting his coat.

“What have you been up to, Burr? I’m surprised to find you as a field medic!” Alex pushed. “I would’ve pegged you as the type to search for a command.”

Aaron shook his head. “No. I… prefer saving lives than leading them.” It was simpler. Easier to hide, as well.

Alexander looked doubtful but allowed it in exchange for drilling Aaron on what he’d been doing the past few years. Aaron answered as vaguely as possible, just enough to satisfy him without giving away much at all.

“You haven’t changed at all, Burr.” Hercules spoke up, nursing a bottle and eyes lidded like he was three sheets to the wind. Aaron didn’t doubt he was but knew better than to think he was incapacitated by it.

“I wouldn’t say that,” He responded neutrally.

“See? You deflect and brush people off. It’s kind of rude, man.” Herc waved his bottle around to accentuate his words. Aaron stayed silent, unsure how to respond in order to appease him.

He had to deflect Hamilton and his friends multiple times before they seemed to get the message. Alexander himself seemed insistent on making them all friends. Aaron allowed himself to be dragged to their fire on occasion but otherwise kept his distance.

Aaron didn’t need friends. He  _ couldn’t _ need friends. He couldn’t allow himself to deal with that heartache and risk his secret getting out.

(He also had no idea how to interact with people and make friends in the first place due to his sheltered childhood, though he wasn’t really aware of that fact.)

* * *

 

Aaron held back a curse and ducked into the next medical tent at a run when he saw who was just brought in.

“Hamilton what were you  _ thinking! _ ” He bit out, hands flying towards the pot of freshly boiled water he’d started to keep in medical tents for the doctors to wash their hands in. 

It had taken a lot of subtle hinting and sly observations made in the presence of the right people before the head doctors had realized that yes, washing hands properly in very hot water actually helped prevent loss of life. They didn’t know why or how but it  _ did _ and anything that saved lives was encouraged.

Aaron didn’t quite know why either. He knew that there were simpler, less complex strings and small  _ things _ everywhere and  _ he _ never needed to wash his hands because they were already kept clean anyways. He hated the strings flying behind his eyes and he saw the strings of anything he touched. If he kept  _ things _ off of him the only strings he was forced to see were his own. (And various small strings of things flying through the air, but he kept his skin covered to minimize contact with those.)

But he still had to pretend he was normal so like every other medical officer he scrubbed his hands until his skin burned before rushing to assist the doctor.

“Hey, my plan worked! We won  _ and _ we have canons now!” Hamilton grinned weakly, face bloody and covered in soot from the canons.

Doctor Smith tried to shush him as Aaron grabbed rags to sop up the blood seeping out of the bloody mess on Hamilton’s leg. 

“Yes, congratulations, you stole a bunch of canons, now bite down.” Aaron shoved one of the rags in Hamilton’s mouth.

Smith took a pair of tweezers to Hamilton’s leg and Aaron kept sopping up blood so he could keep the wound clear enough to see. They both ignored Hamilton’s muffled screaming and groaning, Smith busy trying to get the wound as clear as possible and Aaron distracted clearing blood and nudging strings.

Exchange a few things here, swap them there. The tiny locomotives that carried out the orders needed to be encouraged to slow bleeding, keep out the  _ bad _ tiny things, go go go. He nudged strings around so the small locomotives would recreate themselves and die just a little faster. Enough that the wound would heal just a miniscule amount faster with less risk of infection. He encouraged the active “soldier” locomotives to grow in number. They kept infection down and attacked the small things that weren’t good for the body.

Aaron didn’t do much, really. The human body as far as he was aware was surprisingly resilient. He just nudged it and encouraged the small building blocks to do their jobs at different speeds or in different places. It was a relatively small job compared to the massive amounts of changes and developments the body would do on its own. 

Distracted and in the ‘zone’, focusing on strings smaller than he could even comprehend and making sure he didn’t nudge the  _ wrong _ ones, Aaron barely noted Doctor Smith pulling a chunk of shrapnel out of Hamilton’s leg. While Smith reached for needle and string to sew the wound up Aaron quickly and efficiently cleaned the gash out with alcohol and hot water more out of unconscious memory than any purposeful movements. 

Hamilton was still groaning and making various noises of pain, but in the medical tents such noises were so commonplace Aaron had long since learned to tune them out.

By the time Smith sewed the gash and moved on to the next patient Aaron had managed to pull himself out of his daze of strings and tiny movements. The doctors were in short supply right now and they couldn’t spend too long at any one soldier.

The battle had finished hours ago but wounded men were still filtering in. They’d already triaged the most severe wounds and were now handling the injuries that were dangerous but not life-threatening. Once the flow of patients had slowed down and they had time to sleep and recover they would start working through the injured soldiers in more detail.

As a field medic Aaron’s main responsibility was to make sure soldiers would survive the  _ trip _ to the medical tents or triage them as unlikely to live regardless of what they did. He stopped bleeding and cleared the mud and debris out of wounds, giving basic bandaging and helping drag them to more capable hands that weren’t in the midst of gunfire.

It was a difficult job for most but Aaron found it easy to fall into the emotionless state of sheer focus that served medical personnel well. He would take a moment to comfort a fallen soldier if they were too far gone, but he didn’t stop and waste time and effort that could be spent helping someone that needed his help more.

Now that the battle was over his job moved from getting wounded soldiers off the field to assisting the doctors and nurses in the tents and taking some of the common tasks off their hands. Such as cleaning and bandaging smaller wounds that needed attention but didn’t require a fully trained doctor.

Aaron shook his head and fought off exhaustion and after battle tremors, hands shaking as he cleaned dried blood away from Alexander’s forehead. He was tired. Running back and forth across the battlefield, dodging cannons, hiding the fact that stray bullets had actually  _ hit  _ him.

He was running low on energy. It took a  _ lot _ out of him to heal and repair his injuries so often. He was just lucky everyone assumed the blood covering him wasn’t  _ his. _

“Burr?” John Laurens appeared at his side, voice concerned.

“He’s fine.” Aaron said with clinical emotionless. “Shrapnel in his leg, needed stitches once it was removed. Other than that there’s a few smaller wounds that aren’t serious but need to be cleaned and bandaged.”

“Burr.” John’s hands pulled his away from Alexander’s head, holding them still. Aaron realized his shaking had gotten worse.

“I need to clean and bandage his forehead.” Aaron stated plainly, trying to pull his hands away. “Head wounds bleed a lot and-”

“Aaron,  _ stop. _ ” Hercules’ large hands settled firmly on his shoulders. “We got this, just gotta drag him back to his tent first.”

Aaron paused and let that process in his mind briefly before nodding slowly. “Keep him from moving around, change the bandages every few hours or whenever they’re soaked-”

“We got this.” Hercules repeated. He squeezed Aaron’s shoulders. “Are  _ you  _ alright?”

Aaron’s brain stalled for a second. “What?”

“You look half dead man, and I’d be worried about all the blood on you if it weren’t for the fact that you don’t actually  _ look _ like you’ve been shot.” John said casually, having taken over cleaning off Alexander’s forehead. Hamilton was looking at him with half-lidded, glazed eyes. He was probably in shock from the pain. “You look like you haven’t slept or eaten in days more than being shot to hell.”

Aaron shook his head. “I…” He swallowed dryly, painfully aware of his lagging energy and the way his body was starting to ignore his commands. “I just need to eat.” And drink half his weight in water. 

Water was important to the body and he used up a lot bleeding so much. Also a lot of other small various things his body needed to function, but water was at the forefront of his mind at the moment.

“No, you need to stop and take a break.” Hercules said seriously. “You’ve been up and working nonstop before the battle even began. When was the last time you even stopped to just breathe?”

“I’ve been busy.” Aaron said stiffly. “There’s no  _ time _ to take breaks, not when there’s still men wounded-”

“If you have the time to stop and tend to a relatively minor leg injury, you have the time to take a break.” John glared at him, reaching for the bandages. Aaron handed them over numbly. “You’re no use to anyone if you’re falling over from exhaustion.”

Aaron shook his head. “I can’t- I just need to eat something, I’ll be fine. Once the general physician says the flow’s slowed enough that lives aren’t at risk, I’ll take a reprieve. For now I just. I need to be doing my  _ job. _ ” He shook his head again to try and chase away the fuzziness in his vision. Aaron had gotten cannon shrapnel to the leg as well during the battle. He’d lost a lot more blood than his usual while trying to keep his wounds from closing and pull the shards out. He could feel his leg aching almost in phantom pain from the memory.

He turned and ignored Hercules’ grabbing hands, marching his way to another cot. 

Unfortunately his body wasn’t the only thing exhausted. His very  _ mind _ was tired and overwhelmed trying to process all the strings and miniscule objects in the middle of a raging battle. He could normally push through to the time he was able to take a break, but this battle had left so many injured he was flagging before the end of the marathon.

Aaron was in fact  _ so _ exhausted he tripped over the edge of a chair and toppled over, blacking out briefly. When he came to another medical aide was standing over him and a worried Hercules who must have caught him as he fell.

“Well that was embarrassing.” Aaron said dully, blinking and trying to think past the sudden mental fog. Now that his mind had glimpsed rest it didn’t want to wake back up.

“Burr, you just passed out in exhaustion.” The medical aide, something Baldwin if Aaron remembered correctly, glared down at him. “Go get something to eat and  _ sleep. _ You’ve done the work of practically two different nurses alongside your normal duties, I’m sure we can handle everything without you. Most of the other field medics are already on break.”

Aaron nodded unhappily, ignoring the accusing looks Laurens and Mulligan were both leveling him. The aide gave them a few more words and rushed off tiredly to continue his own work. Aaron tried to sit up and found Hercules supporting him.

“I can sit up by myself,” Aaron huffed.

“Clearly you can’t  _ walk _ by yourself, so forgive me if I’m a little doubtful.” Herc rolled his eyes and helped him to his feet. “Where’s your tent?”

“I share a tent with other medical personnel,” Aaron was too tired to argue.

John and Hercules traded looks.

“You take Alex, I’ll help Aaron. Laf’s tent?” John said.

“Big enough, and it’s not like Laf can complain about us commandeering it.” Herc agreed.

“What?” They both ignored Aaron, Hercules walking over and picking Hamilton up in a bridal hold to keep weight off his leg. Hamilton seemed to have passed out by now and didn’t protest it. Laurens came up under Aaron’s shoulder, half supporting him and half bodily dragging him out of the medical tents.

It was all he could do to keep up with the two as they dragged him through the camp to the officers’ tents. 

“Lafayette! Alex is fine!” Hercules announced loudly as he pushed his way through a large tent flap.

“Wonderful news! How fares his leg?”

“Shrapnel, a doc dug it out and sewed him up. We just gotta patch up the rest of him ourselves and keep him and Burr from running off and doing stupid stuff.” John said frighteningly cheerfully as he deposited Aaron on a nearby cot. Was that an actual  _ feather  _ pillow..?

“Oh?” Senior officer Lafayette looked at Burr over a bundle of pillows and blankets like a cat seeing an interesting canary. “And just what did  _ monsieur _ Burr do to get himself injured? When I saw him on the battlefield he was in fine health, if covered in filth.”

Aaron, still distracted by his fuzzy brain and the presence of  _ real pillows, a LOT of them _ took a moment to remember that he’d stopped to force the Marquis to bandage a fearsome wound in his side during the battle. The madman had been fighting on regardless but Aaron had feared he’d bleed out without proper bandaging. He’d barely gotten off an order to the strings to nudge it so the wound would clot easier before the Marquis was off again.

“Ah, Marquis de Lafayette,” Aaron nodded, unsure what Lafayette’s rank even  _ was. _ “I trust you’ve received medical attention for your side?”

Lafayette beamed at him. “ _ Oui!  _ And thanks to your assistance the doctor did not tear into me for losing too much blood in battle.”

Aaron blinked at him, unsure how to respond to that.

“Aaron’s exhausted and pulling an Alex, so we’re kidnapping him until he eats and gets some rest.” John helped Hercules sit Alex down in a chair and change him into sleep clothes. Lafayette’s eyebrows rose.

“ _ Monsieur  _ Burr, I would think you of all men would be mature enough to not pull an Alexander.” Aaron could hear Lafayette’s grin even if the lower half of his face was hidden by blankets.

“What is ‘pulling an Alex’?” Aaron asked bemusedly, starting to accept his fate.

“Insisting you’re fine even in the face of utter exhaustion, when it would be better for all involved if you just sat your ass down somewhere and rested.” Lafayette said flatly.

Aaron paused. “That certainly sounds like Hamilton.”

Moving Alexander onto the same cot Lafayette was buried under blankets on, John and Hercules both snorted.

“There is a stew cooking just a few campfires away,” Lafayette said, wiggling over to allow Hamilton’s unconscious body room. He didn’t seem bothered by sharing a cot with him. “Bring me back a bowl!” Laf waved and blew kisses at Hercules as the Irishman chuckled and left the tent.

Laurens snickered and began to set up a pallet on the floor. The tent could certainly hold another cot, but there simply wasn’t one available and none of them were likely in the mood to go search one down. Aaron watched him numbly and considered offering to sleep on the floor, since Hamilton was injured fairly bad and he was just about willing to sleep on sheer rock, but didn’t really feel like arguing it right now.

He didn’t really remember much else, having dozed off while sitting up. He woke up very briefly to shovel down an unappetizing stew and finally lay himself down and pass the fuck out.

The three conscious men raised eyebrows and gave each other purposeful looks as Burr seemed to barely even chew the chunks in his stew, eating like a starving man. Laf, not very hungry and having eaten his fill of broth, handed his bowl to Hercules to pass over to Aaron.

Their eyebrows raised even further when he didn’t react to Hercules prying the empty bowl out of his hands and swapping it out with another one. He just kept eating. The moment Herc pulled the second scraped empty bowl out of his hands, Aaron was laid down and asleep.

“Perhaps he is more like Alexander than we thought,” Laf mused, comfortable in his cocoon. Alex had pretty much burrowed himself into Laf’s side and tucked himself under the mass of blankets until he was invisible.

Herc and John both nodded.

“Wait… we’re not going to adopt Aaron like we did Alex, did we?” John asked dubiously.

“I think we already have,” Herc admitted. “And  _ someone’s _ gotta do it. He’s clearly not taking care of himself. He passed out in exhaustion over in the medical tents.” He said for Laf’s benefit.

“We do not have enough doctors to waste even field medics because they are foolish and do not stop to care for their own basic needs.” Lafayette noted grimly, before perking up with a much lighter comment. “Besides, Alexander has clearly made friends with him despite his best efforts to avoid us. I think if we keep at it we’ll wear him down eventually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Apparently in the continental army since he was foreign he didn't hold a proper rank and so Washington kept him around as a confidant. He didn't hold a specific rank and nobody quite knew where he stood. idk i just found that amusing
> 
> As is probably obvious if ur a bio nerd the "locomotives" he keeps mentioning are essentially cells of varying kinds and the "soldier" ones are white blood cells. The "strings" are DNA strands


	3. GDI Aaron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hercules notices some things about Aaron. John notices some things about Aaron. Alex and Laf just stay in bed gossiping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow talk about drop of exposition, but hey, yall love it

Aaron woke up and was at peace for a minute. He allowed himself to sink into the headspace the strings drifted through, nudging things around here and there before becoming aware that he was  _ incredibly _ thirsty. 

He pulled himself out of his doze and realized several things:

One, he felt like he was floating in a cloud of fluff and softness.

Two, his mouth felt like  _ sandpaper. _

Three, he could hear voices.

Aaron forced his eyes open and squinted at a dark tent top. A brief check of his surroundings showed he was practically buried in blankets.

“Oh hey, I think Burr’s awake finally.” Laurens’ voice filtered through the blankets as Aaron tried to shove them aside and unbury himself.

“I think the blankets were a success.” Alexander said, grin present in his tone.

“Did you  _ purposefully _ trap me underneath a pile of blankets?” Aaron rasped, throat dry. He finally managed to uncover his head and glared out at the other cot. Hamilton was, of course, awake and giving him a shit eating grin.

“Is it working?” Alex raised an eyebrow. Aaron paused and sighed.

“Unfortunately.”

“Here,” Hercules appeared with a canteen of water. Aaron took it gratefully and nearly chugged it before reminding himself to drink slowly. He nearly choked before pushing himself up to a sitting position.

“How long was I asleep?” He rasped, feeling the strings moving in the back of his head. The water wasn’t as clean as it could be. Not dangerous, but enough to bother to him and him alone.

Lafayette’s lips pursed. “It is the middle of the next day. You  _ should _ still be asleep.”

“I  _ should _ be getting back to work.” Aaron gave him an annoyed look, trying to figure out how to untangle the blankets around him.

“The med tents are surviving without you, Burr.” Hercules said in amusement. “The General came in to talk to Lafayette and Alex and when he heard that, apparently, the medical officers are so swamped that a field medic worked himself to exhaustion, he set a few of the unwounded to doing chores around the tents to take some of the slack off.”

“I had to lay on top of Alexander when John left to go do his part.” Laf sniffed.

“It’s not even anything really important, they could’ve assigned someone else!” Hamilton protested. Laurens was sitting next to the cot Alexander shared with the Marquis, arms crossed over the edge.

“Boiling water and washing bandages is  _ very _ important, Alex.” John shook his head.

In the middle of their bickering Mulligan brought a plate of food to Aaron. It wasn’t much, mostly just pork and some shriveled looking vegetables, but it looked almost like someone’s full day ration. Aaron gave him an odd look.

“You nearly choked yourself you ate so fast last night, I’m sure you’re starving.” Herc said quietly, lips quirking as he watched John and Alex go back and forth. “I checked with the rations cook who feeds the medical tents. You don’t eat much.” He gave Burr a meaningful look.

Aaron hid his flash of nervousness behind a blank facade of politeness. Mulligan always did have a habit of ferreting out the smallest details. It was unlikely the Irishman would be able to put any sort of picture together based on what info he had now, but Aaron didn’t like the fact that  _ anyone _ was digging for information on him. Even under the assumption that Mulligan was genuinely trying to be helpful and friendly.

Despite his best efforts Aaron nearly forgot to chew multiple times as he ate, feeling his lack of energy and sustenance from yesterday all too clearly. He was going to have to go on an “herb gathering mission” and find things to eat out of the way of anyone else. The inability to be poisoned really helped when it came to Aaron’s need for a  _ lot more _ food than the average person.

(And the ability to dissolve living matter at a cellular level also certainly helped, though he wasn’t aware that was what it was. Burr just knew he could eat anything that was living and it wouldn’t hurt him.)

Hercules kept giving him judging sideways looks as he ate, sitting on the edge of Burr’s cot and  _ on top of his legs. _ Aaron knew what he was doing. When he finished he put the plate down and scowled.

“Get off me.”

“No.” Hercules said without hesitation, giving him a serene look.

“I swear to God I will kick you off.” False. Aaron didn’t have the strength to toss a man Mulligan’s size and weight off of him. And if he  _ could _ he had no doubt Hercules would resort to other methods.

“Wow, I’ve never seen Burr this visibly annoyed before.” Hamilton spoke up and Aaron resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I have a  _ job _ to do and I’m well rested. Let. Me. Up.” That wasn’t quite the truth, Aaron still felt  _ exhausted, _ but he knew that was because it would take more than a couple meals to replenish the amount of blood and matter he’d lost. But the sleep  _ had _ made him feel much steadier.

Hercules leveled a serious glare on Aaron, examining him. Likely for signs of a lie.

“How about I go with him to help at the tents, and I’ll make sure to drag him back when it gets dark?” Laurens suggested. Burr’s head whipped towards him.

“Whaaat?” Alexander whined.

“I wanna see more of the tents, all I got to do really was keep the boiled water pots fresh and do laundry.” Laurens actually looked faintly  _ eager. _ “And this way I can help out  _ and _ keep Aaron from pulling an Alex.”

“Pulling a what now?” They all collectively ignored Hamilton’s protest, Hercules turning to look back at Aaron with pursed lips.

Burr groaned and sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Fine,  _ fine. _ If you’re so insistent on  _ babying _ me, I’ll allow myself a  _ babysitter. _ ” He made no effort to hide his bitter harshness, watching as Laurens visibly flinched back.

* * *

 

“I really do want to learn more about medicine,” Laurens offered quietly while Burr marched angrily towards the medical tents.

“Then you should keep doing what you  _ were. _ It takes time and patience to earn physicians’ trust. You’re not going to be able to simply  _ walk in _ and start assisting in surgeries.” Burr refused to look at him, knowing he’d see the anger and annoyance on his face clear as day. He would normally try to at least  _ act _ unbothered but better they see him as mad than  _ scared. _

Because he  _ was _ scared, very much so. Aaron hadn’t had anyone in continuing close relations to him since General Montgomery. The General had noticed all the oddities that had hinted at Burr’s… abilities. The General was the  _ only _ one, as far as he was aware, that had  _ ever _ realized Aaron Burr wasn’t quite as average as he tried to be. Because the General was the only one who had been in regular contact with him to notice all the small things.

He didn’t know how he’d  _ begin _ to keep everything hidden if Hamilton’s crew decided they really wanted to stick around him.

Laurens stayed silent after Burr snapped at him, content enough with following him around and observing while being an extra set of hands. 

Burr was rather frightening when he was angry. He was so used to seeing the man with a cool face and mild tone. It was shocking and abrupt to see Burr not only showing emotion but downright  _ pissed. _

Various nurses and helpers agreed with John, it seemed, because they all tried to keep out of Aaron’s way. John noted idly that they usually deferred to him briefly. Not much, hardly the level of deference they’d give to a doctor, and Burr certainly never outright gave any orders. But if he paused in the middle of something to wash his hands, or turned down an improperly washed set of bandages, the others tended to gravitate towards doing the same thing.

There was a clear sense of hierarchy in the medical tents, and yet none at all. Whatever hands were available and capable were pulled into work. If you  _ weren’t _ capable of that specific task you were shoved aside in favor of someone who was. A passing doctor, pausing to catch his breath and wash his hands, informed John that if it weren’t for the large number of men in need of attention and care he’d likely be taught how to do those tasks. As it was, they were still pressed for time and hands.

Aaron fit oddly in that hierarchy. Doctors didn’t protest him intervening in the middle of an operation to note an inconsistency or make a sly comment on methodology. A few of the more arrogant ones might have, but Burr had the sense to not even attempt to question them. Nurses and various hands all tended to follow Burr’s example, and yet Aaron seemed to just blend into the background.

That was what really had John scratching his head. Aaron was practically invisible up until he spoke. Nobody seemed to really notice him. It was likely the sheer confidence and  _ belonging _ he oozed, but Aaron had an odd ability to just… be unnoticed. It helped a lot in the middle of sewing a bleeding wound shut or in the midst of holding down a frantic patient. Then all Aaron had to do was speak up and people would hear him, nod, and go back to not knowing he existed.

They noticed  _ John _ more than they noticed Aaron. Primarily to tell John to go fetch something, but still. He had one hell of a time keeping track of Burr in between errands. This happened to be what helped keep him from realizing how often Aaron snuck skin contact with patients and would become somewhat dazed for a bit afterwards.

The lack of clear standing in the hierarchy was a field medic thing, John learned, since they usually weren’t actually  _ in _ the medical tents during the worst of the craze. They were technically right up there with doctors in first aid ability. But once they were done in the field and had rested up they all arrived with rolled up sleeves and determination to lend assistance wherever needed, regardless of how menial.

The fading into the background part seemed to just be… a Burr thing.

Before John knew it the hours flew by in a rush of never stopping errands and jobs. He only even realized they should be getting back to the tent when a nurse asked him to hold a candle nearby the cut on a man’s head so they could see it properly. It was dusk and rapidly getting darker outside.

It took him even longer to find Burr again and convince him to stop, but John had experience in wrangling stubborn workaholics. That meant he went over Burr’s head and asked a doctor to  _ command _ him to leave before he passed out again.

Worked on Alex every time. With Washington being the commanding force in the equation, of course.

Unfortunately it sucked Aaron right out of his calm, emotionless state of productivity and right back into his pissy mood from earlier in the day. John managed to bribe him into easier compliance with the mention that Laf was sure to have food back at the tent.

He did let Aaron go change into a set of clothes that  _ wasn’t _ grimy and covered in dried blood. That seemed to gain him some bonus points. Along with asking some gentle questions about how various medical procedures went.

“So, I know it’s like, a  _ thing,  _ but why does everyone wash their hands so often?” John said. The topic had been bugging him nonstop. “From what I’ve seen, even if my hands are spotless someone made me go wash them again just to handle bandages. And that water is  _ hot. _ My hands have been wrinkled all day.” John didn’t think he’d ever washed his hands so often in his  _ life. _

“Cleanliness.” Aaron waved a hand with a grunt. John rolled his eyes.  _ That _ was obvious. “I’m serious. Have you heard about Leeuwenhoek?”

“The scientist, with his… microscope, and the ‘tiny animals’, right?” John’s head tilted as he struggled to think back to posh childhood lessons he never wanted to learn. “That was back in the 1600s, wasn’t it?”

Aaron shrugged, as if he didn’t know. “I don’t claim to know how the science functions but I’ve heard some of the physicians talking recently. They’re considering those ‘tiny animals’ are responsible for infections and illnesses. It’s all just theoretical, but washing hands so often has decreased casualties and infections. So they made it part of medical procedure.” 

John’s brow furrowed thoughtfully as Aaron sweated. Nobody had yet to figure out that the steps to those theories were kind of convoluted and he’d been spreading the handwashing habit long before anyone else had connected it to decreasing casualties. It helped that in the midst of blood and filth it was a huge relief to simply have  _ clean hands, _ even if they were going to be dirtied again in a few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to just say that, genuinely, if you stay calm and quiet and act like you're exactly where you're supposed to be at all times? You can get almost anywhere. Also survive a killer game of dodgeball. I've survived years of PE with this technique. Several times I walked across the middle of the field without anyone noticing. Invisibility is a specialty of mine.
> 
> Man I sure do love me some subtle perspective changes
> 
> Congrats Aaron you advanced the progress of the cell theory by about 40 years 
> 
> Holy heckie guys I'm beginning to actually have and approach a plot for this fic, now all I need is a villain/antagonist of some shape. I don't want to make it Charles Lee though because he's ALWAYS painted as the antagonist and it wouldn't even WORK in this situation? But also what doooo-
> 
> oh, there's an idea... how do you guys feel about making this full on sci-fi fantasy?


	4. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laf is suspicious and for good reason. Also, magic, and background ships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first section of this takes place the night after the last chapter but once the scene changes to Aaron and John it's several weeks later
> 
> I'm so used to writing nonbinary Laf that using he/him is throwing me off lmao
> 
> GUYS I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH???? THANK YOU FOR THE LOVELY REVIEWS I KEEP SCREENSHOTTING THEM AND EXCITEDLY SHOWING THEM TO FRIENDS WHILE SCREAMING

Lafayette sat up and took a deep breath. His side twinged uncomfortably and Alexander muttered something in his sleep.

Aaron, passed out yet again after eating half his weight in rations, was still asleep. So was everyone else. John and Hercules were both on the floor, Herc having grabbed John in his sleep. Laf smiled warmly at the sight. His Hercules was so intimidating but deep down he was just a sweet cuddlebug.

The smile slipped from his lips when he looked up at Burr again. His side stung.

That wasn’t normal.

Oh yes, Lafayette knew he had a giant gash in his side, so some pain and uncomfortableness was to be expected. But his side kept itching in a far too unnatural way and he couldn’t figure out  _ why. _

He knew how and when, though.

* * *

 

_ “Marquis!” _

_ Lafayette whirled around, sword first. Burr barely ducked his swing. _

_ “Désolé!” Laf said breathlessly, ducking down behind a thick tree as bullets flew by them. _

_ Burr didn’t acknowledge his apology, merely joining him behind the tree. Lafayette took a brief moment to remember the field medic sash on Burr’s arm and note the disturbing amount of blood staining his clothes. _

_ “Was this a blade?” Burr said calmly and businesslike, pulling a roll of bandages out of his pack. Laf barely nodded before bullets hit the side of the tree and scattered tree bark. “Clean?” _

_ “Clean enough!” Laf cackled, pulling his pistol out and leaning out from behind the tree to shoot. Burr made several protesting sounds and pulled him back after he shot. _

_ “Let me clean this out!” He pulled cloth away from the bleeding wound and Lafayette cursed in French, cringing as the pain shot through his side. _

_ “No time!” The Marquis laughed and shot around the tree again. Burr made an annoyed sound and then his hands were on the gash and  _ **_that wasn’t right._ **

_ Laf knew magic. Magic filled his very bones and slept in his blood. He would KNOW if Burr used magic. Magic could not hide from itself. _

_ But something  _ **_happened_ ** _ when Burr’s hands touched his bleeding side instead of cloth and Lafayette’s magic  _ **_did not like it._ **

_ He gasped and cursed loudly, trying to hide it behind the pain. Burr’s hands were rapidly tying a bandage around his side and his skin was  _ **_itching_ ** _ in a way it shouldn’t, his  _ **_magic_ ** _ itched and told him something was  _ **_wrong_ ** _ but Lafayette didn’t know what the hell it could even be. _

_ Magic was ringing such horrific warning bells in his head that the second Burr’s hands stilled he jumped out from behind the tree, pistol stowed away and sword raised. He charged on and continued fighting. They were in the middle of a battle, he could not waste time pondering this. _

_ His magic itched. _

* * *

Lafayette peered through the darkness and watched Burr as he slept. His side still itched uncomfortably and his magic roiled, though the alarm bells had at least faded to an unhappy ringing in the back of his consciousness.

He’d checked the other night, but he had to check again. Just to confirm it. Laf closed his eyes and when he opened them, soft purple light shone instead of pupils.

There wasn’t an ounce of magic in the tent that wasn’t Lafayette’s familiar shade of dark lavender. Even staring at Aaron’s prone form received no result.

He looked down at his side and again, nothing but the telltale signs of his magic lingering around the wound angrily. Something had  _ happened _ when Burr touched him, and his magic didn’t like it, but it was slowly beginning to back away from the wound. Either his magic couldn’t affect whatever it was and was giving up or it was slowly deciding it wasn’t harmful.

Maybe both.

Lafayette sighed and blinked forcefully. His eyes went back to normal, the tent a lot darker without the light.

Alex murmured in his sleep again. Something in Spanish that Laf couldn’t understand.

The witch shook his head and carefully laid back down, hesitant to stretch his side or disturb his bedmate. The mystery would continue, it seemed.

* * *

 

“You’re actually interested in medicine, aren’t you.” Aaron said with a somewhat resigned tone.

“Absolutely.” John nodded. 

“Very well.” Aaron shook his head. “Truthfully, all you can do to learn is speak with the physicians and watch them work. Perhaps after the war you can apply for an apprenticeship but for now there’s simply no time. It’s been awhile since any battle, so the medical tents are quiet enough to intrude.”

“Is that how you got into medicine? You just showed up?”

“...yes.” Aaron looked somewhat distant. “I ‘showed up’ in the tents after a battle in fine health and they needed hands that weren’t squeamish.”

“How long ago was that?” John asked, stepping over an exposed root.

“Three or so years ago.”

John adjusted his pack on his shoulder. “And you’ve worked your way up the ranks since?”

“I’ve done my part.” Aaron eyed him with slightly pursed lips. “I’ve never searched for a rank, only looked for a place where I could serve best.”

“That’s pretty altruistic of you.” 

“Don’t let Hamilton know I have a soul.”

John laughed. “Our secret.” He looked around the forest they were walking through. “You said we’re out gathering medicines..?”

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t aware the medical tents were low on supplies.” John frowned.

“They’re starting to be.” Aaron dodged a low hanging vine. “Bandages are in short supply. Washing and reusing them only works for so long. Especially when washing them properly is a drain on time and resources.” John hummed in agreement, a worried tone to his voice. “Medicines and various plants used in poultices and tinctures are usually procured from trusted sources. Unfortunately, even when rationing, those medicines can only be stretched so far.”

John started. “The physicians have been rationing medicines?”

“From the very start of the war, though far less than now.” Burr confirmed. “Many of them take a lot of effort and  _ time _ to make. And the materials can be in short supply.” He pulled a small journal out of his own pack and handed it to John. “I’ve noted various plants and such that the physicians use. We’re searching for them to bolster the physicians’ stocks while the army marches.”

“Because two men on their own are much more mobile than an army.” John noted, flipping through the book. Various pressed leaves and poor attempts at drawing the plants were scattered in the pages. The written descriptions were far more helpful. “Would you mind if I contributed drawings to this, and copied them for my own use later?”

“If you can put up a better effort than my crappy doodles, than I might just give it to you entirely.” Burr bemoaned.John snickered. “I’m lucky I remember most of them on sight anyways.”

“Well if we have the time I can stop and do some quick sketches of whatever we find.” John said, grinning at Aaron. He nodded in agreement.

“We’ll certainly have the time.”

* * *

 

“Where’s Burr?” Alexander asked immediately when John showed up at their campfire, dragging his feet tiredly.

“He’s, and I quote, ‘literally anywhere else’.” John collapsed next to Alex onto a log.

“Jerk.” Alex rolled his eyes. “We’re just trying to be  _ nice, _ it’s not like he has any  _ other _ friends.”

“Burr is a… rather private person.” Lafayette muttered, stirring the fire absently. He’d been pretty quiet lately even though his side was well enough to move around again.

“You can say that again.” John muttered, burying his face in Alexander’s shoulder. Alex gave John an odd look, quietly relaxing into him. Only Laf and Herc would see and it wasn’t like they would tell anyone.

“What’s got  _ you _ so exhausted?” Hercules asked with a hint of amusement.

“Aaron took me herb gathering and we had to run to catch up to the army because we went too far East. But that was  _ after _ he just walked off and disappeared for like an entire hour.” John groaned. “Or maybe longer, I dunno, I was distracted drawing plants.” Laf looked up curiously. “After that we stuck together and he  _ did _ teach me a lot about some of the stuff doctors use to make medicines but he just…” John picked himself up off of Alex’s shoulder and propped his chin on his fist. “It was all super impersonal and dull. Not boring, because it was super interesting to me, but he was just so…” John made a frustrated noise.

“Aaron Burr?” Alex suggested.

“Aaron Burr.” John grunted.

“I think you guys need to be a little less... forceful with him,” Hercules suggested gently. “Sometimes people who keep to themselves just  _ like _ being by themselves.”

“And  _ we _ are a little, how you say,” Lafayette hummed. “Ah,  _ intense, _ so to speak.”

“Fair.” John admitted. They were pretty wild most days.

“He’s still a jerk.” Alex muttered. John hit him on the back of the head. “Ow!”

“How’s your leg holding up after the march?” John asked, ignoring the scowl being directed at him and Herc and Laf’s snickering.

“I mostly just sat on a horse most of the way, so my ass hurts, but it’s mostly healing up already.” Alex grinned. “Thank  _ God, _ I didn’t expect it to heal this fast.” Lafayette paused.

“Be thankful it hasn’t gotten infected,” Hercules chuckled and Alex agreed. Lafayette had a thoughtful look on his face, hand drifting towards his side.

“Infection rates have been pretty low,” John noted. “I talked to Doctor Shippen and he seemed pretty surprised about it. Said he’s usually kept busy even several weeks after a battle because infections are so common. He’s saying it might be because this company’s the most stringent with sanitation.”

Lafayette nodded along and pretended to agree. He had a different theory, side still itching roughly. He’d never really  _ been _ in the medical tents. At least not while fully conscious and aware.

Investigation was more Herc’s strong point, but in this, Laf didn’t want to involve him. While their group was quite comfortable with sharing secrets that could have them killed - sodomy, among other things -  _ magic _ was something that had never come up. He wasn’t sure if it was because the others assumed it did not exist or because the ‘witch trials’ were too tumultuous a topic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm I sure do love me some background shipping
> 
> John and Aaron are kinda friendos now at least
> 
> Okay yall I gotta note: THIS FIC IS /PROBABLY/ HORRIBLY HISTORICALLY INACCURATE. I do my best to make it realistic and feel like it's def in the 1700s (and i do some research for solid facts, such as scientific knowledge) but don't consider this as a good example of life back then. For one the dialogue keeps shifting rapidly between casual modern talk and formal fancy talk that comes from having a ridiculous vocabulary like myself.
> 
> HOWEVER, THE SCIENCE IS PROBABLY LIKE 80% ACCURATE? I hope and believe. Back then infection was INCREDIBLY common and likely. More soldiers probably died from infections than the injuries themselves. The medical field back then was JUST starting to kick off and they mostly only had herbal recipes passed down that were confirmed to work and/or consisted of "pull bullet out of wounds, wrap it, put herbal dressing on, pray" and of course the infamous "bleeding humors" method. Yeugh
> 
> I found a handy dandy pdf on colonial medicine that's really neat and fun to read if you guys are interested in it! It's meant for a teacher to use to educate kiddos  
> https://www.historyisfun.org/pdfbooks/colonial_medicine.pdf


	5. Boom Goes the Canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John learns Aaron is a dweeb who doesn't understand how friendship works and then fights happen
> 
> Whoops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW you guys sure do love this universe I've got here I'd hate to ruin it jk i love to ruin everything i touch
> 
> BUT ALSO SINCERELY THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE AND FEEDBACK I LOVE ALL OF YOU I PROMISE
> 
> Frankly i am half bullshitting half of these "battles" but i think my suspension of disbelief is strong enough to pretend theyre accurate 
> 
> Exposition? Exposition

Hamilton’s crew wouldn’t leave him alone.

Aaron was conflicted over this.

See, on one hand, it was nice to have several people trying to care for him. Alexander, when not frustrating beyond belief, was a good conversationalist. On the rare occasion Aaron spoke up to say something Alex shut up almost instantly, curious to hear what he would say. Of course he could barely spit it out in time before Alexander immediately began talking at full speed again but it was strangely empowering to be in the laser like focus of Hamilton’s attention, even for a moment. 

Hercules insisted on trying to baby him, which annoyed Aaron, but backed off readily enough when pressed. Laf didn’t seem to have any sort of opinion towards Aaron like he used to, though Aaron caught the frenchman staring at him at odd times. Laurens? John was… nice. He’d never had someone so eager to listen and learn from him. Laurens was entirely absorbed in learning whatever he could about the medical field and had somehow narrowed Burr down as someone with the knowledge he wanted.

This was mostly true, of course, but Aaron didn’t want him to figure out just how  _ much _ he knew. He kept having to wave off answering things until he could figure out if it was something the average field medic might actually know. Aaron knew things full fledged  _ doctors _ didn’t know. (And wouldn’t for several decades more.) He didn’t want to give himself away.

Eventually Aaron learned to at least tolerate Laurens dogging his footsteps and Laurens learned to stay quiet and mostly observe, saving questions for a time when Aaron was willing to answer them. 

Before Burr knew it the various nurses around the medical tents had claimed John as one of their own and were giving him tips on “assisting” Aaron. John was thrilled. Aaron was hopeful it was just a case of Laurens being excited to be ‘friends’ with so many women, but when he caught a glimpse of the women chattering in a group with John thoroughly immersed in their gossip he gave it up for lost.

So now Laurens was his official unofficial assistant. Joy. 

* * *

 

“Does the Marquis dislike me?” Aaron asked, pulling a fungus off a log and brushing it off before wrapping it and stowing it in his bag.

John, busy drawing a sketch from other locations the fungus was popping up, looked up from the battered journal curiously. “Pardon?”

“He stares at me when you are all not looking.” A lot, actually, though he was rather more subtle about it than most would be. Aaron just happened to be more paranoid than most.

Aaron nudged the log over and peered into the moist soil for larvae. He knew they pretty much didn’t do anything but he  _ did _ have to at least  _ pretend _ he believed in the more outlandish medicines the doctors believed in. (He still mentioned to John, casually, phrasing it as if it were common belief and not his own, that the medical benefits of crushed beetle larvae were quite dubious.)

Laurens continued sketching, charcoal gripped in his hand as his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “He does seem kind of distant towards you…”

“I don’t care if he is, I merely wish to know so I can avoid him and any unnecessary drama.” Aaron grabbed another fungus and made a slight face when it proved to be rotten and squished grossly between his fingers.

“I don’t think he  _ dislikes _ you,” John finally said, eyes squinted. “I think it’s more… he doesn’t know  _ what _ to think of you?” He phrased it as a question but then nodded more confidently. “Yeah, that’s probably it. Laf doesn’t hesitate to say what he thinks about people.”

Remembering the various times the Marquis had told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off before the war, Aaron agreed with that thought.

“I think he isn’t sure what to think of you, so he doesn’t have anything to say.” John mused, biting his lip. “Which is… kinda weird, really. Laf  _ always _ has  _ something _ to say about someone. He can be overdramatic, but he’s a great judge of character.”

That wasn’t exactly helping disperse the deep seated unease in his chest.

“It probably doesn’t help that you’re always so formal with him.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow at Laurens.

“I’m serious. Would it kill you to just call him Lafayette?” John’s lips quirked in amusement. “I’m sure he enjoys the ego stroking of you always reminding him he’s nobility but he insists  _ Washington _ call him by his name and not his title.”

Aaron contemplated that for a few minutes. “He wants Washington to like him.” John looked up, having gotten distracted again. “The Marquis wants Washington to like him, likely for the chance of an actual position, so acts casually with him. I doubt he thinks the same of me or wants anything I could procure.” 

John had a peculiar look on his face.

“It’s called trying to make  _ friends, _ Burr, and if Laf being  _ friendly _ with Washington is so weird to you-” Flirting, actually, but he couldn’t say that without the chance of someone getting killed, so. “Then it’s no  _ wonder _ you’ve been such a hardass with the rest of us trying to make friendly with you. Do you dissect everything we do for motives?” He’d meant it as a joke but the way Aaron paused told him everything. “Holy shit you do. What do you call this then?” He raised up the journal and waved it between them and around at the forest to sum up everything.

“You’ve somehow decided I have the medical knowledge you’re looking for and since I’m less likely to be busy in the medical tents, I’m likely one of the better choices to apprentice to.” Aaron said without pause, a slight queasy feeling in his stomach that he didn’t show.

Laurens looked gobsmacked and… somewhat offended.

“No, Aaron-” He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his hair, checking reflexively for stray hairs. “We’re  _ friends. _ I hope. Think? I mean, I thought we’d been on the way to being friends at the least.” John’s babbling eased the queasy knot in his stomach for some reason. “You’re kind of a hard sell, really, and it’s hard to read you. No  _ wonder _ Laf doesn’t know what to think of you. Even he and Herc probably have a hard time figuring out what you’re thinking.” John laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. “We…  _ are _ friends, right? Or like, on the way there at least? It’s cool if we’re not really friends, just yet, I know you’re kind of a private guy or whatever.” He took a deep breath. “Christ, listen to me, I sound like Alex. I’m going to shut up now.”

They were both quiet for a few awkward minutes. The only things that broke the silence were the sounds of forest life around them. 

Aaron finally sighed, loudly, and clenched his fists, staring at his hands introspectively. He knew what he had to do.

“...I think you’re on the right track.”

No no, that was  _ not  _ what he was supposed to do! He was supposed to turn Laurens’ offer of friendship down and refuse to show any emotion at all, maybe let him down  _ easy  _ if he felt he absolutely had to spare the man’s feelings.

John’s crooked smile did not help Aaron’s inner turmoil, but something about the way he practically bounced through the forest the rest of their time foraging made it worth it. 

* * *

 

“I told you to focus on the fighting!” Aaron yelled stiffly, ducking behind a building. Laurens followed him with a woozy soldier on his shoulders. 

“I told ya I was gonna help anyone that needed it if I had the time!” John yelled back. “And wouldja look at that! I got th’ time!” His southern accent was coming out rather atrociously in the heat of battle. “Bandages?” John settled the poor soldier down against the wall, pulling his coat aside and moving out of Burr’s way without prompting while he got to work.

_ Knowing _ John was curious even with a man’s life on the line and a battle raging around them, Aaron talked as he roughly tore cloth aside to look at the wound. 

“Bullet wound, in the shoulder, looks-”

He choked briefly on his words as strings flew behind his head and  _ something was wrong wrong very wrong _ the strings were out of order something was messed up in the way the beads were arranged. It took more than a few moments to take one copy of the strings and  _ force _ them to go the way they were supposed to, then order the shell holding those strings to duplicate itself until the  _ proper _ strings were settled everywhere. He made a mental note to go back and check on the soldier later to make sure the wrong ones were all destroyed or changed to normal.

“-lodged, in…” He shook his head, aware he’d slumped slightly and Laurens was giving him a wide-eyed look of fear. Terror shot through him but he shoved it aside in favor of continuing assessing the man in front of him. No use saving him from messed up strings if he bled out. “Bullet could be lodged in the bone but his shoulder doesn’t seem to have hampered mobility. Need to get him to the medical tents.” Aaron blinked rapidly as he cleaned the wound out and tugged bandages out of his bag. John took over holding rags over the bleeding hole, seeing Aaron’s hands shaking.

“Are you injured?” John said firmly, ignoring the soldier’s groans and sounds of pain.

“...no.” 

“Bullshit.” John bit out, teeth bared angrily. “Aaron ya jus’ zoned out in the middle of fuckin’  _ talking- _ I, ya scared the god forsaken  _ shit _ outta me, man!” He hit Aaron’s shoulder surprisingly hard, face twisted up.

“I…” Aaron rubbed his shoulder. If it weren’t for his quick healing he was pretty sure that would bruise. “We need to get him to a doctor.” He said finally, motioning to the soldier in front of him with a nod. John went frighteningly silent before gritting his teeth and nodding in agreement.

“You’re not getting out of this.”

Aaron didn’t respond, standing up and pulling the stranger up to pull over his shoulder. The poor guy was pretty much out of it between pain and the beginnings of blood loss. John took his other shoulder and they both dragged him off the battlefield and towards the tents.

He dogged Aaron’s footsteps after that, refusing to let him out of his sight. Aaron simply schooled his features and sank into the emotionless haze that let him stay calm and effective amidst the chaos. 

* * *

 

“Alex!” John called in relief, falling behind the barrier Hamilton and the rest of the squad was ducked behind. For the first time since they ran into each other Aaron had to run to catch up with  _ him. _

“John!” Alexander said, just as relieved, grabbing the other man in a tight hug that lasted just a bit too long. “Everything doing okay?”

“Other than Aaron scarin tha shit outta me? Peachy.” John huffed. 

None of them questioned it, thankfully, and Aaron stopped to pull the dirty, bloody headband off Herc’s forehead to get a better look at whatever had caused it. Caught by surprise Hercules didn’t react other than to bend down to make it easier to reach him. It wasn’t much, just a deep gash on his forehead likely caused by flying debris. Deep enough to bleed with the ferocity of all head wounds and be highly annoying and distracting. Especially since it was bleeding all over Hercules’ face and in his eyes.

“Here,” Aaron pulled a cleaner rag out of his pack, cleaning the gash out quickly before tying it tightly around his forehead. Herc winced briefly but bore it stoically. He handed Hercules his water pouch and another rag to clean his face up.

Turning to the others he saw Lafayette and Hamilton bent over talking rapidly, hands flying as they argued some sort of tactic in French for some reason. 

“So what’s the situation?” John said, stuck to Alex’s side but looking to Hercules for an explanation.

“We’re doing good and holding ground, but reports say the British are bringing out canons.” Hercules said grimly.

“Which is going to be hell in crowded city streets. Fuckin nice.” John scowled.

Aaron felt a shard of shrapnel move in his side where he hadn’t had time to pull it out before he healed over it. It didn't hurt now that it was healed but it had a strange pressure to it that distracted him occasionally. He could get rid of it later, easily, but…

“They’re already using canons.” He said, frowning. He supposed the collapsing buildings had hidden the sound of canons blowing up...

Everyone turned to him with wide eyes. 

“They’ve  _ been _ using canons?” Hamilton snapped out. Aaron nodded sharply and he cursed loudly. “How long?”

“I don’t know, they were hidden in alleys.” Aaron winced and remembered following behind a group of soldiers who’d barely been able to realize their mistake when a shadowy  dumpster turned out to be hiding a small group of British soldiers and a canon. There hadn’t been any survivors. Except for him.

Again.

He shoved aside the boiling frustration for later. There was no time to indulge in hatred for his very existence. 

Hamilton spoke rapidly. 

“We have to get that information to Washington and spread out-”

Hercules, occupied with trying to get the flakes of slowly drying blood out of his eyes, saw over the top of the barricade before anyone else.

“GET DOWN!”

Four of them hit the floor. One, not used to actually bothering to  _ dodge _ in battle, nor holding the same level of sheer trust and familiarity needed to follow Herc’s warning without hesitation, didn’t quite make it in time. A powerful blast filled the air and the barricade shattered into deadly shards of wood and metal.

He felt sharp, searing pain across his back, his legs, and then- everything went black. 

* * *

 

“AARON!” John screamed and threw himself over the edge of the destroyed barricade, gun out. There wasn’t enough cover with a cannon ball breaking it into pieces anyways. Laf only paused long enough to trade glances with Alex and Herc before leaping after him with sword drawn.

Alex and Herc grabbed Aaron by the shoulders and hauled him off to the nearest alleyway, ducking behind the corner and peeking out to shoot at the soldiers. Once certain Laf and John had it in hand Alex turned to Aaron and let Herc keep an eye out. He didn’t know much about first aid but he knew some basics-

“Oh shit.” He whispered, voice cracking.

Shards of shrapnel stabbed through his spine and ribs where his back had been facing the exploded barrier. Alex wasn’t positive, but something about the strange dip under the cloth of his jacket told him Burr’d been hit pretty hard by the canon ball itself.

One large scrap of metal was lodged deep in the back of his skull.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Alexander bit his knuckles and took a deep breath, trying to avoid hyperventilating. There was no way he was alive. No way he- 

“Alex? Is- fuck.” Herc paused, Laf and John freezing behind him before ducking under cover before they got shot.

John staggered over to Aaron, face grim, checking his pulse even though he _ knew _ it was impossible.

“He's dead.” He backed away and bumped into Laf, the sudden feeling of loss hitting him hard. Lafayette was staring at Burr’s body, eyebrows knit in an inscrutable expression, but he still held John in a brief hug. 

They took a moment of silence to process everything before moving on. 

Mourning later, ongoing battle now. 

“We have to get that information spread, stay away from corners, watch out for alleyways-” Alex's cracking voice was interrupted by a loud, gurgling gasp.

They turned to see Aaron, by all rights thoroughly _ dead,  _ scrabbling weakly at the cobblestones and gasping for breath past the blood pouring out of his mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> You may send deaths threats in the form of screaming and angry yelling in the comment box


	6. No We Will NOT Pretend That Never Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets nasty. You've been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY YALL IF IT WEREN'T OBVIOUS THE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE TAG IS THERE FOR A REASON this shit gonna get /nasty/
> 
> Like this chapter earns this fic's rating okay, I'm serious, the reason I'm mostly unfazed with this is bcz i have a mortician dad who regularly enjoys helping me find accurate mortuary photos of gruesome deaths for artistic reference. I gotta tough stomach. ...I should probably change this fic from Mature to Explicit if I haven't already
> 
> Also this chapter involves, understandably, a lot of people flipping their shit and having panic attacks. Also throwing up.
> 
> Though everyone freaking out was fun to write because it's given this chapter a huge disjointed loosely connected feel that I love even though it makes the story flow oddly. What can I say! I love using atypical writing patterns to convey the mood of the story. And the current story mood is "everyone is having panic attacks and/or concerned about the potential zombie apocalypse and the fact that their Friend Literally Just Fucking Died".
> 
> ...though that begs the question, if he doesn't STAY dead does that require a major character death tag..?? food for thought

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Herc jumped backwards and grabbed at the wall to avoid falling out of cover, feelings his knees wobble dangerously. Next to him Laf was screaming and pointing his sword at Aaron in sheer horror. Herc ended up grabbing him around the shoulders just to keep him from stabbing John and Alex- who were barely questioning it and immediately at Aaron’s side.

Well, John was questioning it. Sort of.

“This is FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE!” He screamed, grabbing Aaron’s hand and checking his pulse. “His pulse is going on and off again, skipping beats, I-I don't know-”

Alex didn’t seem to care, more worried about the glazed, insane look in Aaron’s eyes. He grabbed his other hand and squeezed it tight because Aaron’s clumsy flailing was beginning to make his fingers bleed.

Burr was motionless somewhere around his back and down and Alex would bet his spine was _a little_ broken after being hit with a goddamn _cannonball._ The real thing that worried him was the _blood_ that kept coming up out of his mouth. He certainly wasn't getting any air out with that and some strange, reddish _gunk_ was coming up with the blood.

“John he can't breathe,” Alex looked over at John, frozen and still feeling the pulse stopping and restarting under his fingertips. “John!” His yell snapped him out of it and his hands shook but he blinked the haziness out of his eyes. “He can't breathe what do we do?!”

“He has a goddamn CHUNK OF METAL in the back of his head how is he even fuckin ALIVE, MAN?!!” Herc yelled historically. He was still holding tightly onto Laf and was likely the only reason Aaron hadn't lost his head. 

Necromancy was a _thing,_ and it was a _very bad_ thing and basically the only thing Lafayette knew to do to handle _actually God forsaken FUCKING ZOMBIES_ was to sever the spine but Herc was holding him back from charging in before John or Alex were bitten.

“We need to- fuck, what do we, FUCK!” John grabbed his head and pulled his hair in sheer panic. “FUCK MAN, I have no idea what the fuck we're supposed to do!” This was literally impossible!

“Well he's clearly not staying dead so fucking help him breathe!” Alex shrieked angrily.

“How the fuck do I do that!?”

“I don't- JESUS.” Alex yanked his hand away from Aaron’s when _his skin_ rippled freakishly. “What was that?! What the FUCK was that?!!!” He clutched his hand, feeling like it had just been electrocuted or _something_ without the actual electricity. Like a bowl full of iron dust that had just gotten magnetized or- or _something._

John had let go the instant Alex yelped, then scrambled backwards when Aaron’s entire head rippled the same way. They watched, frozen in shock, as Aaron’s hand clumsily tried to grab the chunk of metal embedded in the back of his skull. He didn't seem to have the coherency or the grip strength to find it and pull it out though.

John slowly and carefully inched forwards, grabbing the ends of it with his hand. With a strong tug he managed to rip it out with a disturbing squelching and scraping sound as it pulled out of brain matter and broken bone.

Behind them, Hercules finally let go of Laf to turn around and puke. They were all seasoned soldiers but sometimes things were just plain _gross._ Laf seemed _really close_ to joining him.

John nearly lost his lunch too but managed to hold it in, chunking the metal aside and forcing himself to look at the wound.

More of the weird gooey fluid poured out the moment the obstruction was clear, though more grayish in color. John and Alex watched, highly disturbed yet fascinated as gunk poured out of the wound as well as- _bone fragments?_

“This is the grossest thing I've ever seen.” Alex said firmly. John turned to look at him and then laughed hysterically.

“Our friend just died and came back to life and is currently- I don’t know? Healing at really _really_ stupid speeds with wounds that shouldn't _be able_ to heal at all? And _that's_ all you can say?”

Alex blinked at him slowly. John slumped a little.

“Yeah, I guess… I'm a little short on words too.” His voice cracked.

Alex’s eyes flickered back to Aaron. “I think he's… more conscious now.”

He looked less insane and more just… very, _very_ much so in extreme amounts of pain.

“It…” John took a deep breath to steady himself and regretted it when the smell of blood and unidentifiable gore hit him. “Okay, so it… it seems to be… healing itself?” His eyes wandered over all the various shrapnel in his back. “And it can’t, if there’s still pieces in the way? I think. Dear God this is impossible.” John took a deep breath.

“Are we secure here?” Alexander said firmly, still clutching his hand to his chest.

“Uh, I- probably? Fuck, man.” Herc complained even while turning and looking around the corner. “I don’t think we should stay here with a canon nearby even if we managed to get a couple of them.”

“Okay, plan.” Alex steadied himself. “Laf, go find Washington and tell him what we found out. Get him to send out messengers to the rest of the army to look out for traps in alleyways and stay _away_ from buildings and narrow streets. Herc, John, we’re going to relocate to somewhere less likely to be interrupted and keep a lookout while we… help Burr.”

“I request swapping with Hercules.” Laf said stiffly, eyes trained hard on Aaron. He didn’t want to let him out of his _sight_ until he was positive there weren’t any undead problems on hand.

“Fine by me.” Herc shook himself and saluted them. “You guys stay safe, alright?” He set off at a quick jog, ducking low and falling behind the next building he could for cover.

“What would be a good spot to hide out in…” Alex mused, peeking out the edge of the alley and watching Herc’s path.

“Inside a building?” John suggested, running a hand over Aaron’s back and wincing at the disturbing dips. He started tugging out shards of metal while they were just sitting there.

“Not very safe with canons going around,” Alex said. He looked meaningfully towards the shredded barrier. Wooden buildings weren’t exactly much shelter.

“More hidden than out on the streets.” Laf countered, clenching his sword tightly. John and Alex traded looks and brushed off his uncharacteristic tenseness as Laf freaking out in his own way. They didn’t blame him for it.

“That’s true.” He took a deep breath. “John, you take one shoulder I get the other?” John winced.

“Considering I’m pretty sure at least one shoulder is fucked up? Not the best idea, but I can’t see any other way to move him. Let’s do this.”

* * *

 

Awareness came back like a train wreck, consciousness not quite with it.

_Pain pain pain pain pain-_

Everywhere, in his head? In his neck, in his shoulders, he couldn’t feel anything else-

 _-nothing from his back, strings moving half not of his own accord, moving, fixing_ **_trying-_ **

He couldn’t breathe, he just felt thick liquid and viscous pulp where he knew his lungs should be.

_PAIN PAIN PAIN CAN’T BREATHE-_

He heaved and struggled and tried to get his throat clear but the very act of trying to get _air_ was sending shots of pain through the thick headiness already soaking his mind.

New strings ran through his mind and he coughed and couldn’t _focus_ he had enough of a problem with _his own_ he couldn’t-

GET AWAY.

He pushed and shoved the strings and didn’t even know what he did but it did _something._

Strings gone there was only his strings to worry about to scream at through the fogginess and try to make them _stop-_

_In the way, have to get it out, have to, can’t fix it!_

He wasn’t anywhere near able to think, much less focus past all the _pain,_ but there was the pulling _need_ to clear _whatever it was_ out so he could _be fixed-_

_No leverage no grip can’t move can’t find it-_

Gone? He screamed but he couldn’t _actually_ scream so just gurgled and coughed and felt strings flying around _fixing things_ without consciously directing them, he didn’t know what he was doing, his subconscious just wanted him _fixed_ and it would do it with or without him paying attention.

Slowly, slowly, time passed in a massive haze of strings and throwing up mass amounts of leftovers and running low and realizing he couldn’t _continue_ he needed _more-_ Aaron was vaguely aware of water going down his throat and it helped and time passed more and more.

He couldn’t really think until somewhere around the time his spine forcefully aligned itself correctly. He felt broken bone shards next to the newly grown bones and felt an aching throbbing in the back of his skull. He couldn’t heal any of the outside wounds. His body was using all fuel and material to fix things necessary for him to _survive._ His brain. His major organs. Not fully, not entirely, _not enough time not enough energy_ but enough that he slowly began to regain consciousness.

Unfortunately with the recreation of his spinal chord came the returning feeling of every single injury in his lower body. The pain was so fucking _horrible_ it took him a while to compartmentalize the new wave of pain.

He couldn’t quite put together what had caused this recent death experience. (And he knew he’d died, it was a weird haze but he quite clearly recalled the familiar sensation hitting him _repeatedly_ before he’d stabilized near enough to not die every second.) Had he tried jumping in front of a dynamite explosion? Jesus _fuck_ he hadn’t hurt this bad since the time he got burnt alive.

Aaron’s eyes cracked open blearily.

It was dark and he couldn’t see very well.

He closed his eyes and realized there were muffled sounds. After a minute of struggling to pull his head out of the fog and strings he cracked open his lids again and realized everything was much clearer.

What sounded like his name being fuzzily called caught his attention and he froze, dread filling him instantly. He stared up at the shadows and prayed to whatever the fuck was out there that he hadn’t been caught.

“Aaron?” Familiar faces leaned over him and he realized he wasn’t in as much pain as laying on the floor would suggest.

Fuck.

He swallowed dryly and blinked, fuzzily looking over all three of them.

Lafayette was suspicious but blank as per his usual when dealing with Aaron. John looked _incredibly_ concerned. Alexander looked like he was five seconds away from spouting off either worried yelling or questions Aaron didn’t want to answer.

He had a brief moment to wonder where Hercules was, since they were often in a group together, but brushed it aside when John brought a waterskin to his mouth. Aaron noted the rag on John’s hand preventing skin to skin contact as he held Aaron’s head up so he could drink.

Double fuck.

After he drained the waterskin Aaron coughed and swallowed, struggling to breathe.

“...I uh… don’t suppose you-” He had to pause to take in a ragged breath. “-guys will pretend that… never happened..?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaron no, no they will not
> 
> Frankly the first half of this chapter was just me getting to write everyone's "WHAT THE FUCK" reaction in varying ways and it was in interesting challenge to me tbh
> 
> (Can you blame Laf for freaking his shit at the idea of a zombie apocalypse during a bloody war? It's a very reasonable thing to flip your shit over)
> 
> Happy Murder Day to my American followers! I hate Thanksgiving and am avoiding any celebrations via writing this chapter. Help me.


	7. If It Weren't Obvious, Alex and John are Really Gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I can't write anything with John and Alex in the same room without it ending up gay
> 
> Oh, also, Aaron manages to talk for like. Two minutes. Before passing the fuck out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda... just a chill chapter..? Aaron's not exactly up and ready to talk, so

There was silence for one long moment.

John exploded first.

“NO! No we will  _ not _ fuckin pretend that  _ never happened, _ Aaron!” He waved his hands in the air and Aaron winced briefly at the sudden movement. “You jus’! Scared all of us half ta death!! And you-  _ how _ did-  _ what even _ was-!” John covered his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream of sheer frustration. Alex patted his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

“Burr, if you do not explain right away what happened, I will not be responsible for my actions.” Lafayette said coldly. His arms were crossed and his eyes half-lidded, but Aaron didn’t mistake him as relaxed. 

“That… depends on what you saw.” He finally rasped. “Also how long it’s… been, the last… thing I remember was… Mulligan yelling.”

“Canonball hit the barrier.” Hamilton said grimly, rubbing his arm where a piece of shrapnel had scratched him. They were all covered in cuts and minor wounds. “Herc yelled a warning in time for us to hit the ground, you were… a bit too slow. We dragged you under cover but after everything settled and we had time to actually check on you…” Alexander took a deep breath, momentarily wordless and shaking slightly. “You were  _ dead, _ Aaron. No heartbeat. The canonball must have- hit you  _ directly, _ your back was mangled, God, you were  _ covered _ in shrapnel and there was a  _ giant chunk of metal _ in the back of your head.”

Oh. That explained his inability to think for the majority of the pain filled haze.

John grabbed Alex’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Alex took another shuddering breath.

“Then you just started to move, out of nowhere, and we all freaked out.” John said bluntly. “Somehow you came back from the dead. Multiple times. Aaron I  _ felt your heart stop _ multiple times. COMPLETELY.”

“Don’t need t’ convince me,” Aaron muttered, trying to take stock of himself based on what they’d explained. His spine was there and in one piece. His lungs were… functional, if barely, and he was pretty sure only  _ one _ was functional, but he was breathing, so. His head was likely the only thing mostly healed. He could feel an ache of pain from the back of his head, but he wouldn’t even be awake and conscious if there was any damage to his brain still.

Everything else wasn’t really fixed. He could feel broken shards of ribs, the various holes in his back, the bits and pieces of bone leftover from growing another spine. He was pretty sure there were several internal organs that were failing right now. And healing just enough to keep going. Then failing again.

“Convince you of what? That you died?” John said breathlessly in disbelief. “Normally people would need convincing of that.”

“I’m sure you’re aware this… isn’t a normal situ-” He was interrupted by his lungs finally giving into the itching and the welling blood and began coughing harshly, sending agonizing waves of pain everywhere as he jerked around and struggled to breathe.

By the time the pain receded enough to think past he was so exhausted he didn’t know if he’d even stay awake long enough to explain anything.

“Aaron?” John’s voice pulled him out of the hole he’d started to fall into. 

“Mmf ffi…” He slurred, reluctant to talk and risk tickling the various holes and punctures in his lungs again.

God everything fucking  _ hurt. _

“He’s fine, he says.” Alexander’s voice was reaching hysterical pitches. “Please tell me this isn’t what it feels like to you guys when  _ I _ say those words?”

“You cause far less sheer panic and confusion,” Laf muttered.

“‘S normal.” Aaron forced his eyes open and couldn’t see anything but vague blurs around him. “Born like ‘is. Hid it. Not… can’ really control it.” 

“Is it... witchcraft?” John asked, strangely level for asking something that usually resulted in people being burned at the stake. There was a strange tension in the room and Aaron would’ve sworn the hairs on the back of his neck rose. 

“No.” Aaron squinted into the blurs around him. “...probly not. Dunno. No one… never told anyone. Parents didn’ know what it was.”

Well, his uncle had thought it was witchcraft. But Aaron was  _ pretty positive _ it wasn’t. That implied that he had some sort of… control or  _ actual knowledge _ of what it was.

“It is not witchcraft.” Lafayette said strongly, the tension rising to an almost physical crackle. Aaron winced in discomfort. 

“How do you know?” Based on the weird note in his voice John was giving Lafayette a very skeptical look.

“It probably isn’t,” Alexander mused. “Doesn’t match any of the stories back home.” There was a pause and Aaron had to assume everyone turned to stare at Hamilton. “Magic wasn’t as… condemned, where I come from. It wasn’t exactly advertized, but there were a lot of stories.”

“Well since  _ fairy tales  _ seem to say otherwise.” John huffed. Alex made a noise of protest but was interrupted when John leaned over Aaron. “What do we need to do to help you finish… whatever, the healing? You’re still…” 

“Food. Water. Sleep.” Aaron grumbled, eyes closing. He didn’t really absorb the fact that John was still interested in helping him. “Don’t… touch me, don’t wanna… do anything ‘thout meaning to.”

“No skin to skin contact. Already figured that out when Alex’s hand went nuts.” John drawled. Aaron’s eyes flew open in a panic.

“It’s fine! I’m fine, my hand just… feels weird. Nothing happened, so…” 

Aaron eyed the Hamilton shaped blur wearily. On one hand, his…  _ thing _ could do a lot of damage that wasn’t immediately obvious. On the  _ other _ hand, Aaron was far too wiped and dizzy to even focus on fixing whatever it was he’d done. If it wasn’t immediately causing problems it could wait until he was less likely to accidentally kill Hamilton out of exhaustion. 

John could see the moment Aaron decided it wasn’t something he needed to worry about, because his eyes closed and he grunted briefly in pain. Not that John really blamed him. His ribs were still a disturbing lumpy mess of inflamed skin. There was actual  _ bone _ poking out of his back. John had nearly thrown up trying to figure out if he should pull it out or not.

“Get started on that sleep, okay?” John said quietly. Aaron made a vague noise of acknowledgement and was probably already out like a light. Sleep must be a million times better than feeling half your body sit in a broken mess.

“Does this seem… familiar to you?” Laf murmured. Alex blinked oddly.

“Kind of. It’s almost like after the battle… up North, when Alex go that shrapnel in his leg?” John hummed. “Aaron was exhausted. He pretty much passed out the second he had somewhere to sit.” He blinked and felt a chill run down his spine. “Uh. Guys? You know how Herc keeps complaining how often Aaron ruins his jackets with bloodstains?” 

Laf and Alex turned to each other, eyes widening. 

“I’m guessing most of that blood wasn’t from patients.” Alex looked at Burr, frowning. “Fuck. How much you wanna bet he doesn’t bother dodging bullets?”

“I should _ hope _ he  _ bothers, _ considering it still hurts like a motherfucker.” John bit out.

“I wonder how he hides bullet holes,” Laf pondered, looking over the jacket laid out over a chair. After they’d practically peeled the damn thing off him it nearly fell into pieces from the wide gashes all over the back. Even Herc would be hard pressed to put it back together.

“Not important.” Alex sighed and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Now that he’s… not  _ currently _ dying, we need to figure out what to do next.”

“Hide him in my tent, obviously.” Laf said flippantly. “No one enters my tent except us. Even Washington is hesitant.”

“Because last time he walked into someone’s tent without warning it was  _ Alex’s _ and he  _ caught _ us.” John muttered, turning red faintly. Alex grinned. “Stop that, you’re lucky he didn’t have us  _ hanged, _ Alex.”

“Worth it.” 

“Time for sodomy later, cretins.” Laf rolled his eyes. “The problem is how to get him there without anyone noticing us dragging his broken and bleeding body through camp.” Though of course, a healthy dose of magic could go far. But they didn’t need to know about that just yet. Even if the calm discussion of possible witchcraft had put to rest a lot of his fears.

* * *

 

In the end, they waited until the battle was over and troops were sluggishly reconvening into camp to sneak Burr to Laf’s tent amidst the chaos. Laf and Alex were called to Washington’s tent and left Hercules and John to watch Aaron. Laf seemed oddly reluctant to leave but did so anyways.

John filled Herc in on what little they’d found out while they buried Aaron under a mountain of Laf’s blankets and pillows. 

“Food, water, sleep. Seems normal enough.” Herc said, plopping down on Laf’s cot. “You know, if you ignore the coming back from the dead part. Guess coming back to life takes a lot out of you, huh?” Having actually had the time and opportunity to distance himself from the situation, he was much calmer.

“Worse than that, he’s still not anywhere  _ near _ decent health.” John sighed, sitting next to him and relaxing when Herc threw an arm around him companionably. “His entire chest is basically a bloody pulp. If I hadn’t seen his  _ brain… _ REGROW itself, I wouldn’t believe he’d survive the next few  _ minutes. _ It’s bad. I can’t imagine how much pain he’s gotta be in.” John shuddered uneasily. “He… acted like it was normal. Didn’t seem worried at all, except when he realized we’d  _ seen _ him.”

“I mean, if he said he was  _ born _ with it…” Herc shrugged. “I’d say he’s had plenty of time to get used to it.”

“I dunno.” John sighed. “It keeps bugging me. He just- he didn’t  _ react.  _ He just-” He waved his hands around, strangling the air. “Like he didn’t care! And once he realized we were there he just- gave up? Like we were going to shoot him then and there! Which, admittedly, would probably do jack shit, but. Still.”

“Remember when me and Laf kept telling you guys Aaron’s a private guy who’s not used to being friends with a bunch of wild guys like us?” Herc said. “I think that still applies. Except he might not be used to friends at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I noticed it before but kinda brushed it off.” Hercules chewed his lip thoughtfully. “You said he pretty much just sees ‘friends’ as people looking to get something out of him? I don’t think Aaron’s ever  _ had _ any. Not that I blame him. Can you imagine having to hide…  _ that _ your entire life?”

“Meh.” John buried his face in Herc’s shoulder. “Not really, but I do relate to having to hide a deep, important part of myself for risk of being killed.”

“...I’m not sure being a flaming homosexual and… whatever Aaron has is exactly  _ equivalent, _ but yeah, basically.” Herc patted John on the shoulder. “He’s been passed out for a while, even while you guys carried him in, right?” John made an affirmative noise. “Cool, I’m going to go get food.”

John snorted.

“If this  _ is _ like what happened last time, I’m sure he won’t even  _ need _ to actually wake up to eat.” He pulled away from Hercules and fell back on the cot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i was gonna do herc saying like "better get some proteins in him" but then i remembered the time period. and googled it.
> 
> nutrition science wasn't even really discovered until the 1800s ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Honestly at this point I think we're lucky sutures have long since been invented


	8. None of You Have Your Priorities Straight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron wakes up and what little he CAN explain is sort of explained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY YALL I'M BACK and I am now an official semi-unofficial high school graduate! Half a year early lol
> 
> WARNINGS: throwing up, body horror, generally Aaron feeling super shitty, and serious adult conversations that Aaron would rather run away and never have
> 
> Can i just say thANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING YALL HAVE DONE I absolutely love getting to hear from yall and talk with you and all the kudos and everything on this fic and hhhhHHHHHHHHH

John was right and Aaron didn’t actually fully wake up. 

They almost weren’t sure how to get him up enough to eat (Herc wanted to poke him with a stick, John elbowed him roughly every time he tried to suggest it) but apparently all it took was bringing a plate of beans and pork close enough for Aaron to smell it. His eyes cracked open and they stopped their arguing, staring back at him awkwardly.

Aaron was really, really scary when he was too tired to be polite. 

He blinked slowly, realized there was food in front of him, and devoured it like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Considering how much blood and… gunk… he’d thrown up, John didn’t doubt that was the general effect.

John carefully passed over a canteen of water when the plate was scraped clean. Aaron actually stared at it blankly for a minute before seemingly realizing what it was and draining it dry. Then he just laid back down and was out again.

“That was… weird.” Herc said plainly.

“No shit.” John shook his head. 

Aaron didn’t stir another inch for several more hours. By the time Lafayette came back, John had worriedly checked him for a pulse (through a thin cloth, to minimize skin contact) multiple times. He barely even looked like he was  _ breathing. _

“Everything going alright with our dear Aaron Burr?” Laf muttered, collapsing on his own cot. Organizing everything after a battle was exhausting.

“Got some food in him, but otherwise,” John shrugged helplessly. Laf hummed thoughtfully, eyeing the bundle of blankets and pillows. “Sorry about your bedding… it’s gonna have to be washed in secret after this.” John sighed. “I just wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.”

“And a beneficial side effect is that no one entering the tent will immediately see him, it is alright.” Laf waved him off. “You left my favorite one alone anyways.” John chuckled. 

* * *

 

Aaron woke up feeling a lot less “pass out any second” exhausted and more just “ready and willing to collapse” exhausted. He opened his eyes and saw the top of a tent. Of course.

He turned his head, seeing Laurens and Lafayette sitting on the other cot and talking in low voices. The pressure in his abdomen was very demanding. The ‘old’ things had been replaced with ‘new’ things and now the leftovers needed somewhere to  _ go. _ He cleared his throat and they both looked up in surprise.

“Trashbin. Now.” He croaked, pushing himself up weakly. John didn’t hesitate and grabbed a bin. Lafayette helped him up enough to lean over the edge of the cot. Then he threw up a mess of pulpy substance with chunks of bone mixed in.

“Oh  _ fuck  _ that’s gross,” John patted Aaron’s shoulder and then winced when bone moved wrongly under his hand. 

“I would normally say this is what happens when you choke down more than you can eat, but I’m pretty sure none of that is half-digested food.” Laf said idly, face scrunched up in disgust.

“Leftovers.” Aaron muttered, catching his breath in between heaves. “From... fixing.”

Of course it definitely was not food. His body had pretty much broken that down before it had even gotten to his stomach. From what he’d managed to figure out, it was the damaged parts of his body that had been… used up? Sort of.

Once he’d thrown up what might  _ actually  _ be half his weight in bloodied clumps and strange gunk, Aaron didn’t even try to get comfortable again. He just moved so he wasn’t hanging halfway off the cot and laid face down with an exhausted, pained groan.

“Don’t go passing out just yet, we were fixing to wake you up for some food anyways.” John said. “Herc will be back soon. I don’t want to  _ know _ where he’s getting the rations for it, but…” Aaron was too tired to look up and made a somewhat objecting grunt. “Nuh uh, don’t ya be like that now. If this was some normal injury sort of situation-” John paused and decided that wording was the best he’d get. “-well, we’d still help take care of you. This is just… a little more… extreme?” John sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“What  _ monsieur _ Laurens means, is we are here for you, you idiot.” Laf snorted. John pointed at him.

“What he said.”

If he had the energy Aaron would have forced himself up to look at them. Just to make sure their faces matched their tones of voice. Because what the fuck.

“So. You awake enough to… talk?” 

Fuck.

“No.” Aaron rasped bluntly.

“...fair enough.”

He fell into a doze pretty quickly after that, mind going gray to try and ignore the screaming pain in his… everything. 

* * *

 

That set the tone for the next week. Aaron spent a long time just  _ sleeping _ and he hated to think how Mulligan was getting the rations they were always ready with when he awoke. 

Finally he woke up and wasn’t immediately blindsided by strings flying past his mind’s eye. They were still there but they weren’t screaming past and making it hard to think of anything else. He spent a few minutes just laying still and thinking, feeling strings moving and figuring out what his general state was.

The general census was: hurts like shit, but not going to die.

Aaron opened his eyes and nearly sat up, but found himself hopelessly buried and tangled under blankets and pillows… again. He managed to wriggle an arm out of the mess.

“This isn’t gonna become a habit, is it..?” He said, voice hoarse and choked but stronger than any other time he’d woken up.

There were several startled exclamations and then blankets were pulled away.

“Aaron!” Alexander’s face was the first to appear, beaming obnoxiously in the dark.

“Hamilton, I don’t like your face. In. My face.”

Alex stopped, blinked, and his mouth worked a few times. Laughter exploded behind him and he turned red.

“It’s alright Aaron, he’s not exactly the face  _ I’d _ prefer to wake up to either.” John said and Aaron finally managed to struggle to a sitting position while Hamilton made angry noises.

“Feeling better, Burr?” Lafayette spoke up, and Aaron could just barely see the Marquis’ eyes watching him in the candlelight. It appeared to be fairly late at night.

“...somewhat.” He said, rubbing his forehead. “Hurts, but… should be better off, now.” He glanced around the tent to find all four of Hamilton’s group sitting around. “How long..?”

“You were out for a week,” Laurens said, sitting on the floor and leaning up against Lafayette’s legs. “Ate more than I thought physically possible, drank twice as much in water, and threw up ten or so buckets of what looked like your internal organs.”

“It was.”

There was silence and Aaron groaned, grabbing a pillow and burying his face in it. 

“Aaron, I say this frankly, as as your rival and friend: what the FUCK, man.” Alexander’s eyes were wide. John looked about ready to throw up. Hercules and Laf were trading bewildered, slightly disbelieving looks.

“...can I have some water?” Aaron said, barely getting past the pillow muffling him.

There was silence, the four friends trading looks before John kicked Alex and pointed with his chin towards the waterskin at the front of the tent. Alex fetched it with a grumble and set it on Aaron’s cot.

It took a few minutes of awkward silence before Aaron finally pulled away from the pillow hiding his face. He drank from the waterskin thirstily, more focused on wetting his throat than drinking the whole thing. There were bits and pieces of strings that flew by his mind and it tasted vaguely brackish. Aaron frowned and set it down. If clean water supplies were running low, the camp wasn’t doing too well…

He let out a faint sigh and squinted up past his headache to the four men awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

“So you have questions.”

“No fucking  _ shit, _ Sherlock…” Alex muttered. John kicked him again.

“Yeah, we do. But like… don’t feel too pressured? Or anything?” John said, scratching the back of his head and fiddling with his hair. For once it was loose and flew everywhere in wild curls. “We trust you, man.” 

Aaron caught the slight twitching from Lafayette that said otherwise, for the noble at least, but he certainly didn’t begrudge any distrust.

Aaron’s jaw clenched and he pulled his legs up, holding his knees in front of him. Still being buried under blankets helped him feel less like they were all staring judgingly at him.

“When I was…” No, no that wasn’t quite the  _ right _ start. Aaron had never told anyone this. “My mother had a strange pregnancy. It was… easy. Too easy. No complications.” He shrugged lightly. “I was out so fast the Midwife hadn’t even had time to arrive. She said something was terribly wrong about it, claimed it  _ witchcraft, _ and… my father had to beg her to not speak of such things.”

Aaron’s eyes found the candle nearby so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone. The steady flame helped him pretend he wasn’t being dissected by the only people in the world he thought could be considered his friends.

“I don’t know what it is.” It was hard to admit out loud, but it was something Aaron had been living with his whole life and certainly not a new revelation. “Ever since I can remember… there’s been… this  _ code, _ almost. In the form of… strings. Of sorts. It’s hard to explain, I can’t even…” 

He sighed loudly and tried to not sound like he was about to cry in frustration over being unable to  _ describe _ something so intrinsically built into his very self.

“Living things. Or things that  _ were _ living. Everything has… strings. Like the blueprint telling them how they work. I… I can sort of control them.” Aaron frowned. “It’s… not easy. Or even useful all the time. I can’t  _ control _ it as well as I’d like. It’s confusing, and gives me  _ dreadful _ headaches…” He nearly laughed, wheezing bitterly and rubbing his forehead.

“When I was a kid it came easier. I never even tried to  _ do _ anything, just let it do whatever. As I got older I just… it’s easy to overthink, to get everything confused and muddled. But even still certain things I don’t even have to really  _ think _ to do. Like… when I’m injured, it just… fixes itself. The strings fly around practically by themselves.” He said quietly. 

Lafayette’s head tilted. “Well. It is good to know you are not one of the Undead.” The other three turned to look at him. “What? Don’t tell me that was not something you  _ all _ thought, at least once.”

Aaron made a strangled noise. “Yes. Well. Dying isn’t fun, I can assure you. If I only died once and  _ stayed _ dead I’d much prefer it.”

That hit a rather discordant note with them all, Alex making a pained noise. He could feel them staring at him again.

“Well uh… we much prefer you alive,” John said slowly. “Even if it must’ve hurt like shit.”

“It did.”

“...well you’re just a bundle of  _ joy,  _ aren’t you.” Alex muttered, rubbing his face.

“You heal people.” Lafayette stated firmly, as if he’d come to the realization and was both questioning Aaron and confirming it even as he said it. The other jumped a bit and then turned back to look at Aaron like a game of pingpong.

“I do.” Aaron said quietly. “But I can’t do much. When I fix myself it’s… not on purpose, I can’t stop it. If I try to fix others…” He swallowed. “...mistakes can be… bad.” He took a deep breath and pushed away bad memories. “Small things. Cleaning wounds. I can… nudge strings a little bit, so that the wound will heal faster. To prevent infection.”

“My leg!” Alex said loudly, making them all jump. “I  _ knew _ that healed faster than it should’ve.” Aaron couldn’t help a slightly breathless laugh.

“All that, and all you can talk about is your  _ leg,  _ Hamilton?” 

“Alexander has never had his priorities quite in order.” John kicked Alex for the third time and pulled him down to sit on the pallet on the floor. Alex glared at him mutinously.

“...can I go back to sleep now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaron just wants to not deal with people, ever. He has zero filter when exhausted and in pain
> 
> *deep breath* MAN AM I GLAD TO HEAR FROM YALL AGAIN it gets real annoying to not get any feedback at all from other fandoms, but the Hamilfandom is always nice and friendly and willing to scream at/with me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think and if there's any big questions you have. Give the science a little leeway, it's fanfiction about a founding father controlling DNA with his mind, but I'm having fun making it as scientifically accurate/feasible regardless


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